Hell Fire, Sweet Fire
by DreamersDae
Summary: Matthew's a vampire. Or /was/ one. When discovered, he was captured by humans and killed. Abel, Matthew's love and husband, mourns for his loss. But then a smaller version of Matthew pops out in the middle of a forest-and he's still a vampire. Rated M for scenes, language, and sexual encounters.


Hell Fire, Sweet Fire

(Part 1)

Frost invaded Matthew's throat as he, along with a few others, was dragged out of a drab, dirty, isolated _wooden_ building into a wide expanse of snow. He should be impervious to the cold—at least much more than regular people were. But today the air and snow pinched at his skin like a hundred fingers; at his cheeks, nose and ears, at his bound hands and bare splintered feet. It was so strange to him, to feel this cold.

But the cold was nothing compared to the searing, burning thirst inside his throat. The thirst for blood.

A thick, sand-paper textured leather gag scraped against his raw tongue. He bit down on it—the muzzle-like thing he had worn for three weeks straight.

The smell of fresh blood bombarded his sense before he saw its source. A crowd of people—humans—were gathered in the center of a town. Some appeared curious, skeptical. Others were frighten, cringing away when they caught sight of Matthew and the others being hauled along with him. Overall the faces were full of scorn, superiority. They were merciless to Matthew…  
They were also thriving with life giving _blood_.

He began to struggle harder against the hands gripping his shoulders and the bast cord around his wrists. His eyes were yellow around his now silted pupils; like of a cat. Only a slim line of deep, soft violet on the outer ends of his irises showed their true color. He felt his canines extend into elegantly curved fangs, trying to tear the rough leather concealing them.

Matthew had turned into the one thing he hated most about himself: An animal.

Vicious. Lethal. Powerful. A starving predator.

A sudden strike from a thrown block of wood to his temple made his vision spin. A trickle of his own blood ran down the side of his face. Faces stretched and zoomed away. Laughter and jeering assaulted Matthew's sensitive ears.

Rope wrapped around his waist and shoulders, and through his animalistic state he realized he had been dragged on top of a single platform and was being tied to a thick wooden pole.

More platforms with poles were set in a line in the center of the snow blanketed town. At least four more. And on each was another bound person just like Matthew. He was in the center, struggling madly.

The humans began to lay dry bundles of hay on the platform around Matthew, keeping their distance from him as if he were a parasite. When they were finished, one stepped close to him until it was an arm's length away then quickly reached up a hand to rip off the gag from Matthew's mouth. He snapped at the fingers as soon as the leather was removed but missed the thin apparatuses by a millimeter. A low growl rumbled in his throat then a hiss, fangs bared for all to see.

Smoke mingled with the scent of blood. The crowd of humans silenced as a male holding a lit torch spoke to them. His voice was voluminous, but his words were incomprehensible to the bound people crazed by the smell of blood.

Then, one by one, the platforms and the hay on top were set on fire.

Matthew's platform was last.

A cold wind blew through the town center, chilling him to his core. The air did nothing to slow the flame, however. It licked every strand of hay in its path, itching closer to his feet.

Shrill, agonizing screams started piercing Matthew's ears.

Panting, sweating, his mind cleared a little bit. The animal shrank back deep in his head, allowing his common sense, his real human, _Nation_ self, to take over.

He withdrew his legs against the pole, struggling even harder against the rope in a primal survival attempt to escape the fingers of the fire before it can touch him. It was futile, of course; his pant leg got caught by the flame.

Matthew cried out, his eyes—violet and normal again—wide with terror as the painful heat climbed up his leg. His eyes glazed over and he coughed as the smoke entered his already scorching throat.

Closer and closer the flames came.

Higher and higher the flames rose.

The humans jeered at him. They cheered for his looming death.

More hay was thrown into his fire. Sticks and planks of wood were tossed in as well, adding fuel.

Panic rose up like bile inside Matthew. He couldn't leave like this—like a hated monster. He couldn't _die_. For good. He had a baby girl and the love of his existence waiting for him in Netherlands. He told them he'd come back home after he got some work done in Vancouver. He _promised_.

A car skidded down the road behind the humans. It spun in a ninety degree angle, tires screeching against asphalt, narrowly missing some humans.

The driver's door swung open and an extraordinary tall man stepped out, his green eyes directed straight to Matthew.

Matthew's eyes widen even more, tears running down his cheeks; he froze for a moment in his struggling when he caught sight of the man.

Abel…

Dear God, not Abel. Anyone but Abel.

He shouldn't be here. He shouldn't be seeing this. He _should_ be in Amsterdam, with their daughter. The damn worry-wart bastard…

Matthew tied to call out his name, but all that came out was an agonizing scream. The flames of his fire had reached his chest and shoulders, the pain it caused as searing as the burning in his throat.

Sobs began to choke him like the smoke, and he allowed himself to finally break down. To scream and cry.

Abel sprinted. Plowing through the humans as if they were bowling pins.

At the front of the crowd, before he could reach Matthew's blazing platform, Abel was grabbed and tackled down by a few well built men. He fought desperately against them, his eyes glued to his husband.

He screamed, "MATTHEW!" repeatedly, repeatedly…

The male human that had spoke before the crowd looked form Abel to Matthew and back. Without a word, he gestured to a human next to him and was handed a slick, sharpened wooden spear. It wasn't hard to guess what he did next—like a warrior that has trained for years, he positioned the small spear and threw it with the grace of a predator.

The point of the spear landed on its intended target: Matthew's heart.

Abel bellowed. His cry filling Matthew's ears above everything else.

Matthew coughed, blood coating his tongue, lips and chin. He shivered, not from another gust of cold wind, and all he saw was Abel. His dear love and husband.

It was all over now. It was pointless to try anymore.

Ironically, Matthew smiled. His smile meant only for the man that stole his heart years ago.

He choked out a sad laugh, more tears escaping.

Slowly, savoring each word, Matthew soundlessly whispered to Abel alone, his eyes shining with love and utter devotion, "I love you…"

Then his heart stopped beating, and the fire engulfed his whole body.


End file.
